The red light of sunset struck mallorn trees like blood on burnished gold; Legolas noted that fact, frowned, and set it aside. Gimli had pleaded sore legs and declined Legolas' invitation to walk with him, rather disappointing the elf. But it was good to walk by himself, too, even if he had grown accustomed to companionship. Lothlorien's trees were rich and still over his head, and in his fingers he twirled an elanor blossom to which he paid more attention than he paid to the path. Then he stopped under a tree, frowning again. "You drew on me," he said accusingly, apparently addressing the flower with some severity. The flower remained mute, but the tree answered. "I didn't." "Your men did. You might at least have called off Rumil and Orophin." "They're my brothers, O Prince, not my hunting dogs." Legolas opened his hand, let the flower drift to the ground, and in three bounds was up the tree and onto the small flet. He sank down behind Haldir, folding his legs tailor-fashion, and reached around the other elf to pluck the comb out of his hands. "What in the world did you think we would do, anyway? And those small ones - did you think they were going to bite your kneecaps, that you aimed so many arrows at their heads?" His voice was still severe, but his fingers were deft and gentle as he untangled a knot in Haldir's hair and drew the comb through. "I told you - these are grim times, and we dare not through over-friendliness -" "You say that as if I were as sheltered as the kin of the halflings. Do you forget whose kingdom the Dark Lord took refuge in, or the long years we have spent trying to rid the forest of those vile spiders?" Legolas palmed the comb and untwisted the braids at Haldir's temples. Haldir's hand reached back to settle lightly on Legolas' knee. "No, Prince of Mirkwood, which was once called Greenwood the Great. I do not forget." The comb slid through Haldir's hair as if that spill of rich gold were melted butter. Legolas followed the comb's path with his hand, less to smooth down the hair than simply to stroke it. "But we do not draw on strangers in Mirkwood." Haldir gave a strangled cough that sounded for all the world like the word dwarves. "All right, but we do not draw on kin. Nor," and this was what really upset him, "on lovers." The sun slid below the horizon, leaving the sky blazoned with scarlet-shot purple. Haldir sighed, his thumb moving in an absent caress on Legolas' knee. "Some of us, my prince, are not quite as free to choose in such matters as others are." "I do wish you wouldn't call me that. I have a name, you know." "I haven't forgotten that either, Legolas." "Would you have shot me? Or allowed your men to?" "Can we please stop discussing this now?" Legolas balanced the comb on his knee and twisted the hair at Haldir's temples deftly back into thin, securing braids. "I want to discuss it," he said obstinately. Haldir turned to face him, retrieved the comb, and made a small spiraling motion with his finger. Legolas turned obediently around and felt Haldir's hands begin to work his hair free of the braiding. "What possible value could there be in discussing it? What is it that you want me to say, exactly? That I'm sorry? I am, though I shouldn't be." "I want to know whether you would have allowed your men to skewer me and my friends." "You have grass in your hair," Haldir commented. "You've been travelling too long with those dirt-attracting Men. And dwarves, and those little halflings were none too clean either when they got here. I nearly gave my men orders to take them by the furry toes and dunk them in the Nimrodel until the water ran clear again. How they can get so dirty just walking, I'm sure I will never know." "Which part of that shall I answer first, or shall I ignore the whole thing and point out that you didn't answer my question?" Legolas asked in exasperation, tilting his head back a little as the comb ran smoothly through his hair. "The halflings and Gimli are low to the ground, of course they get dirty. What excuse Aragorn and Boromir have I don't know, but I'm sure they have one. Now: would you have let your men shoot us?" The comb stilled for a moment before Haldir sighed and began working through a small knot in Legolas' hair. "If you had given me provocation," he said finally. "But the provocation would have had to be extreme, and I do not believe I would have let them shoot you in any case, not unless there was absolutely no alternative." "We ask only that nothing change," Legolas said softly. "And it is like asking for the stars." "This will not be our world for much longer, I fear. But we will go into the West and find another, and perhaps there will be mallorns and tall oaks there. But no spiders." "And no orcs." "And nothing will change but the seasons in their turning, for all the long eons of the beating of our hearts," Haldir whispered, and touched his lips lightly to the curve of Legolas' neck. Legolas reached back to draw Haldir's arms around his waist. "You really were very rude, you know," he commented, but without as much asperity. "I'd forgotten how well you sneer." Haldir pulled Legolas back toward him, laughing. "All right, my beautiful prince, I apologize for being rude. Does that assuage your offended honor?" "Now you're mocking me." "No. I'm not really. Do you forgive me?" "Oh, I suppose so." "Good," Haldir murmured, and trailed a line of kisses down the side of Legolas' throat from jaw to collarbone. And the last of the light slid away.     Back to the fanfics page Back to the home page